Undone
by define-serenity
Summary: [sequel to Stripped] Blaine tries on his Dalton uniform for the first time. (OR, Sebastian takes it off for the first time.) ONESHOT. COMPLETE.


**disclaimer:** without prejudice. the names of all characters contained here-in are the property of FOX and Ryan Murphy. no infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.

**author's notes:** written for Seblaine Sunday, prompt: **Dalton blazer**. sequel to _Stripped_, but can be read as a standalone.

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**Undone;;**

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One week. That's all it had taken for him and Blaine to go from friends to whatever it is they are now. Blaine would have him say _boyfriends_. He doesn't know why the term is so problematic to him, it's only a word after all. Maybe the problem is that he's never been someone's boyfriend before.

"What do you think?" Blaine asks, straightening the red-blue striped tie of his new Dalton Academy uniform. He'd insisted on trying it on before his first day.

He lounges back on the bed in his own uniform, his blazer left behind in the car, momentarily distracted by the great view he has of his _boyfriend's_ ass. When he takes in the full view the uniform works strangely deceiving; it hides Blaine's strong shoulders under at least two layers of clothing and his quite frankly impressive biceps. He's often wondered what else those cardigans and bowties hid.

"I'd tone down the hair gel," he says.

But if Blaine hears him, he pays no attention to his remark. "It feels too big," Blaine says, straightens his shoulders and tucks in his tummy.

He gets up from the bed and saunters over to Blaine, locking eyes with him in the mirror. "Maybe you'll grow into it." He grins and as Blaine averts his eyes there's that first tinge of red in Blaine's cheeks, that gorgeous smile he's always happy to be the cause of.

"_Ha ha_," Blaine drawls dryly and finds his eyes again. "Seriously," he asks, and while the playfulness doesn't leave his voice there's something in those hazel eyes that learned vulnerability the hard way, something looking for affirmation and comfort and support. Something desperate that reaches out, perhaps even without Blaine realizing.

He takes a step forward, his chest connecting with Blaine's back. He leans in and whispers in his ear, "I think you look dashing." And really, Blaine could be wearing pretty much anything, including the bowties, and he'd still look handsome. The uniform might stifle some of Blaine's individuality, but maybe the Warblers will be able to bring that out from beneath the Dalton blue.

Blaine sighs and draws his hands down his blazer.

He smiles. "Don't be nervous," he says, arms winding around Blaine's waist, chin on his shoulder.

Blaine leans back against him, a solid promise of something he's never had before. "I just want to make a good first impression."

"You already have," he says, no longer afraid to admit it. "You've tamed Sebastian Smythe."

Blaine chuckles and turns in his arms. Those innocent hazels stare up at him. He looks different, he catches himself thinking, they've never looked more compatible. Blaine pulls him down to his height and presses a chaste kiss to his lips, "Not completely, I hope."

"Are you trying to seduce me, Mr Anderson?"

"Not trying, no." Blaine shakes his head and next thing Blaine's mouth's on his, and all he can do is pull Blaine even closer to him, parting his lips like Blaine already has. Blaine's always so greedy for this. At first he thought Blaine did it for him, like he's inserted the soft touches and lovey-dovey gestures one expects from a _boyfriend_, but he's long since started hoping it's because Blaine sees him capable of that.

Blaine moans into his mouth, hands groping at his chest through his shirt–it makes him realize Blaine's wearing his new uniform, and all he can really think about is ripping it off. He dips his head lower and Blaine's breath catches in his throat, his lips puckering around a spot behind Blaine's ear he'd found was very sensitive to kisses.

They've been doing this all week; every day after school he swings by and after Blaine reassures him Karofsky's left no new bruises it's always Blaine that makes the first move. Part of him suspects it's Blaine's way of forgetting, just like it's his way of forgetting how damn inadequate he can still feel, both born from a fear instilled in them a long time ago.

But what he has with Blaine is real–it's more than Blaine's way of separating himself from the pain and judgment of a hateful world and it's definitely more than a selfish desire inside of him. Yet it's the realness of it all that still scares him senseless.

"Sebastian," Blaine whines while his teeth worry the skin above his collar, Blaine's hands coming around to his back. He's glad he decided to leave his own blazer in the car.

When there's decidedly no more skin for him to reach he returns his attention to Blaine's lips, tip of his tongue ghosting over the skin, making Blaine grab a tighter hold. He loves that he can make Blaine so desperate.

He could do this for hours, wind Blaine up into a frenzy of sexual tension, take his time exploring every inch of the boy with his tongue, fingers, his eyes. But he doesn't want to push Blaine either. They'd ended up on the couch in the living room, one of them draped half over the other a few times now, but their hands have never wandered below the waist, safe for a stray hand that couldn't help but cop a feel at Blaine's ass.

He pulls at Blaine's tie gently, the knot giving way easily. "I don't want to mess up your new outfit," he whispers against Blaine's lips.

His words stop Blaine short. "You're right," Blaine says and his hands move to his shoulders, their foreheads settling together.

"You–" he clears his throat, his chest heavy with longing. "You should change."

"What about you?" Blaine asks and shrugs out of his blazer, but doesn't move an inch.

He presses a kiss to Blaine's lips. "I'm not particularly attached to mine." He smiles. Blaine walks over to the closet and hangs up his blazer and tie. "Besides, you've already molested my shirt."

"Sorry." Blaine traces his steps back to him, still dressed in his white shirt and slacks, even though Sebastian's eager to go back to their previous activity–it's no help that he's already half-hard and aching.

Blaine reaches for him again on tiptoe, just as eager for them to continue; he has to concentrate hard to stop from fisting Blaine's shirt, so he takes his face in hands instead. "Please change," he's the one who whines now, impressed by his own self-control. He's had to dial himself back a few times already; he doesn't want to make Blaine do anything he's not ready for. Unfortunately Blaine takes the same amount of pride in knowing exactly what he can make him feel.

He feels Blaine smile against his lips. "Help me," he whispers.

"_Blaine_," he breathes, only half his brain catching up. What's Blaine asking?

Blaine had made it clear that he didn't want to rush anything, definitely not the physical side. His insistence and eagerness to get physical at times, however, sent him mixed signals as to what exactly Blaine meant by 'rushing things'; he knows they have time, they have all the time in the world, and he doesn't want to give Blaine reason to panic.

"Please," Blaine pleads and gives his tie a firm tug.

He captures Blaine's lips again, the faint taste of honey chapstick making him smile. There's so much he wants to do with Blaine, so much he wants to do _to_ Blaine, but unlike his previous entanglements he doesn't feel the need to get that over with. He has real feelings for Blaine, deeper than any other feelings before and he owes it not only to Blaine but to himself to explore them at a respectful pace.

"We don't have to rush this," he mutters against Blaine's lips.

"I know." Blaine pulls back to look him in the eye, swallowing hard, "but I like the idea of getting to know your body." Blaine averts his eyes, the blush in his cheeks rosy and beautiful, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt. "Each–Each other's body."

And he can tell right there and then that what they've been doing isn't Blaine's way of forgetting, that transferring to Dalton isn't his way of running from his problems–no, Blaine's letting go of a painful past and taking control of his own life, of his future, of his relationships. Blaine wants to be with him and explore new feelings of his own.

He thumbs at Blaine's jaw. "You're sure?"

Blaine nods and it's all the answer he needs before they're kissing again, his hands on Blaine's face while Blaine's fingers claw into his shirt just below his shoulder blades. He walks them backwards towards Blaine's desk.

"What are you–" Blaine starts.

"I was being serious about your outfit," he replies, even though he's tempted to throw caution overboard and leave Blaine's clothes in a heap on the floor. "I know how sensitive you are to these things."

Blaine chuckles. "I wouldn't be if you didn't try to grab my ass every point-two seconds," he answers, but his smugness is cut short the moment he undoes the first button on Blaine's shirt; Blaine falls silent and never loses sight of what his fingers are doing, pushing every button carefully through the corresponding buttonhole until he reaches the bottom. Blaine shrugs off his shirt and drapes it carefully over the back of his desk chair.

He shakes his head. "Of course you'd be wearing an undershirt too," he says, fingers trailing down Blaine's waist.

"Oh, it's all about the layers," Blaine jokes, and takes a step forward, pulling him down by his tie into a series of short playful kisses, one after the other, and he feels his stomach flutter with something he reluctantly defines as butterflies. But it's there all the same and he loves how new and excited it feels.

He pulls back and reaches down for Blaine's pants, gauging Blaine's reaction. But Blaine only stares down at his hands, breathing hard through parted lips.

He pauses. "I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

Blaine blinks up at him, his pupils already blown. "It's okay," he whispers, "I trust you."

This time Blaine doesn't release his eyes, not when he pops the button on his pants, not when he pulls down the zipper and pushes the material past his hips. Blaine's pants slide down his legs and fall into a heap on the floor, but neither of them pay them any more attention–Blaine tugs hard at his tie and sucks his tongue into his mouth, moaning when their hips meet and he can feel Blaine's hard for him too.

He surges forward and pushes Blaine back against his desk, grabbing down around his ass to keep them steady–their hips smooth together without much of a rhythm, but the friction between their bodies is enough for now. They have time and they're exploring, there's no need to rush this.

Blaine unknots his tie and throws it further into the room, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

"Take off–" Blaine gasps, his hands shaking, and haphazardly unbuttons the rest of his shirt while they're still kissing, pushing his shirt down his shoulders only to get it stuck at his wrists.

He releases Blaine's lips and settles their foreheads together. "Well, this is a problem," he says, and Blaine snorts a laugh.

"Of course you wouldn't be wearing an undershirt at all," Blaine teases.

He takes a step back towards the bed, leaving Blaine high and dry, and winks. "Layers make it harder to get to the good stuff."

He sits down on the bed, legs spread, and waits for Blaine to come to him.

"Layers make for a good challenge," Blaine corrects, walking over with some difficulty, but he reaches down for one of his wrists, taking his time to unbutton one sleeve and then the other. His shirt joins his tie on the floor soon after.

Blaine forces him to lie down on his back and settles one leg between his, straddling his other leg in pursuit of more friction. He licks at Blaine's lips, but Blaine ducks lower, peppering kisses down his neck, sucking at his pulse points–his cock twitches and his hips buck up, causing Blaine's to do the same.

He throws his head back in the matrass, dizzy with want for this gorgeous boy. He reaches down for Blaine's ass again, and they finally find a rhythm, Blaine's hips moving with his, the drag and push driving him insane.

And then it's all kisses and quiet gasps, their lips only parting for an occasional, "Fuck," or, "Yes," while their hips move in short and tight circles against each other.

It isn't until Blaine starts repeating his name over and over again that he feels himself inching closer to orgasm as well–Blaine has his face buried in his neck and his breath's hot against his skin, his hand repeatedly clutching at his hip. They both come moments apart, chanting each other's names, riding through their orgasms while their hips jerk aimlessly with aftershocks.

.

Half an hour later they've taken the time to clean up, and Blaine's stored away his pants safely along with the rest of his uniform. He can't wait to be able to see Blaine in that uniform every day, see him at Dalton and not have to worry about anyone bullying him. No one will ever bruise Blaine again.

Blaine's parents aren't home and they have the house to themselves for at least a few more hours, so Blaine doesn't bother getting dressed in anything more than his undershirt and a fresh pair of boxers. He lies down and crawls over to him on the bed, laying his head down on his chest.

They lie there, not speaking while the radio plays, his fingers drawing random patterns through Blaine's curls while Blaine does the same over his abdomen. It's not as scary as the first time he held Blaine like this–he still feels stripped down and exposed. But he thinks maybe that's what it's like to be in love.

"Blaine?"

"Hmm?" Blaine hums sleepily.

"I can do boyfriends."

Blaine laughs, his body shaking against his, and lifts his head. "Are you sure you're not just saying that because Dalton's an all-_boys_ private school?"

He belts out a laugh of his own, still taken by surprise every time Blaine gets cocky. "We really need to have a talk about the amount of sass you've been throwing my way."

"I learned from the best," Blaine says as they both settle on their sides, facing each other now. "Boyfriends?" Blaine asks, his words endowed with hope for a better tomorrow and a promise he's sure he made wordlessly the day they met.

He nods. "Boyfriends."

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**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


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